


A Bar In Knowhere

by SecurityCat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Nova Corps, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reader-Insert, Thanos is a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 21:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15671445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecurityCat/pseuds/SecurityCat
Summary: One of the last Nova Corps officers drinks their problems away in a criminal laden location only to discover the last of the Asgardians being led by a noble Valkyrie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I find this lack of lesbian literature disturbing. If I cannot find the gay, then I shall MAKE it. Also, this is shamelessly self-inserted, but if you’d like more say so and you shall have it.

Knowhere. A place where the scum of the galaxy congregated to drink, fight, steal, and gear up for their next heist or job. You had climbed a couple of floating shelves to get a good view of all of the fights that would break out in the room, and you used the window to your lower left to keep an eye out for known enemies. You definitely weren’t checking out the humanoid in white and gold armor. No, of course not, you were a professional. The only Terran on the Nova Corps roster—not that there was much Nova Corps left. The Mad Titan saw to that approximately a year ago. Half the galaxy gone in an instant, and you had lost a great many people. Nova Prime, your entire squadron, the ones who hadn’t died in the fight or dissolved into ashes fled to the farthest corners of the galaxy. So here you were, floating on the metaphorical space tide to the seediest reaches of the galaxy with only your uniform buried beneath your sick, black duster and a communicator.  
You felt something slip out of your pocket and jumped, reaching around and grabbing what was a small rat creature stealing the communicator. Rage filled you, it sprouted from your chest, tensing the muscles in your arms and warming your face, especially around your eyes as you struggle to capture the disgusting thief. Every time it bit your fingers and the backs of your palms, you dropped it and a scream began to bubble in your throat. This rat will not take the last piece of your home from you, not after today. You chased the little beast from the shelves, weaving through and under the rambunctious patrons with skill until one unsightly alien with rhino feet catches your coattails.  
“God fucking damn it,” you slipped out of the ratty thing and clambered around the feet and tentacles of more patrons.  
You were losing sight and ground quickly. The ugly little fuck was too fast, too light on its feet, so you whipped out your phaser and aimed down the sights, setting it to kill before returning it to stun. Just as it reached a hole in the wall, you fired, sending it careening into the wall and landing unconscious at the entrance. Your relief was short lived when you felt a boot in your back and watched as a hand lifted your communicator off of the floor. More hands roughly grabbed you by the hair and arms as they dragged you to their feet only for you to come face to face with Ravagers. You held your weapon limply in your hand, and your palms out above your head as several guns were suddenly pointed at your nose. A female Easik hung off of the arm of a heavy Centurion whose blue smile stretched around her silver fangs like a shark.  
“Well, well, well. Nova Corps, eh? Thought you fuckers were annihilated when Xandar went down,” she gloated. Her lizardy girlfriend giggled like the second-hand moron of the mean, popular girl in high school.  
You figured silence would keep any fists or tentacles from colliding with your internal organs (and piss off the red leather space biker gang), but you turned out to be mistaken. As you folded like a lawn chair and tried to remember what breathing was, you took a moment to relax the restrained muscles in your arms and tried to free yourself. Success! You managed to thrust a fist into the nearest baddie and bolt, brushing roughly past the Centurion and knocking the feeble Easik girl to the floor on your way to the door. You skillfully snatched the communicator out of some red tentacles with your grappling hook gun and slipped into the crowds like water through the Rockies.  
“Get that fucker!” As the Ravagers dispersed, pushing and harassing the equally dangerous criminals in the area, you managed to slip back into the bar you’d run from and buy a drink. Some small humanoid child had asked for spare credits, so you gave the lanky boy she was with a just enough to buy a hot meal and a new jacket before confiscating the one he had on. The boy was royally pissed, but the girl was ecstatic, and her face made your drink all the sweeter.  
Your eyes quickly found the humanoid, you’d been admiring before. She was looking your way now, clearly privy to the scene you’d caused earlier, and she (at least you assumed it was a she) seemed very amused by you. Or at least that’s what you thought until she waved with a familiar metal device at you.  
“Fucking cunt,” you hissed through your teeth and stood to confront her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysterious hot lady challenges you to a drinking game.

You stormed right up to her, still not sure if you were planning on punching her or groping her ass in that tight uniform. Fuck she’s hot, you think, and still haven’t decided as you stand toe to toe with the woman. Her chocolate eyes are only startled for a moment before she regains her smug composure.   
“This must mean a lot to you if you’re willing to take a few ass beatings for it,” she teased.   
You have no idea, you thought. “I’d like that back, thank you.” You said ‘thank you,’ but you could tell she knew you mean ‘fuck you.’ The humanoid around you seemed on edge, clearly with her, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw some putting their hands on their swords. The caramel-skinned beauty paid them no mind but instead seemed to be checking you out as her eyes drifted from your boots to your hairline.   
“Tell you what, love,” she smiled, “I’ll drink you for it.”   
You thought about it. You had had plenty of practice with extraterrestrial liquids, and you knew which ones might help you last a little longer, but the biggest snag in your plan stands: you haven’t a clue what species she was. You did, however, find the knots and decorations of the group’s clothing to be… disturbingly familiar. Fuck it. “Fine. I win, I get my communicator back.”   
“And if I win,” she whispered. “what do I get if I win?”   
“Well, what do you want?” You crossed your arms in annoyance.   
“I bet you’ve still got access to Nova Corps tech. I want in.”   
“Deal.”   
Not a minute later, you were sat at a table surrounded by the too familiar humanoids on all sides. Other aliens had gathered, only those that towered over the humanoids with the occasional smaller ones piggybacking for a better look. The bartender brought six glasses of something that resembled a hemorrhaging brain in embalming fluid. To make matters worse, it was red at the bottom. You tried your damnedest not to think too hard about what could be in it and instead gritted your teeth and screwed your eyes shut at the harsh flavor of the drink. You were glad you hadn’t eaten before then but woe some at the knowledge that you would be hit hard when the liquid began absorbing into your bloodstream. The pretty warrior downed the glasses like nothing as if the drinks were only half full and mostly gaseous assuming her belch was anything to go by.   
Once you dropped the last cup, the glasses were quickly swept away and replaced with tubular shot glasses filled with glowing magenta liquid. The taste was like molten lava but paired with the lick of salt from your palm became oddly sweet like cotton candy. The other woman barreled through the shots, waiting until they had all been drunk before pouring a ridiculous amount of salt into her mouth to combat the burning sensation. Her eyes screwed shut, pinpricks of tears in them and her face twisted in a way that made you laugh uncontrollably. Your stomach throbbed from the pain of being too full, but as it turns out magenta stuff moves through the body twice as fast as water, and both of you were pressing your thighs together to hold on. Twelve shots of purple drink were replaced with a bulb of something… not liquid. An airy white gas swirled inside, and you put your lips to the opening. Your body felt warm and was buzzing pleasantly, and after a few seconds, the gas began to convert the liquid filling your stomach and stretching it uncomfortably. Through the haze of your drunkenness, you barely recalled the gases purpose. As it evaporated the mixers, the gas-filled your lungs and your exhales became colored with the purples and blues of the former drinks.   
“Ready to drop yet?” You couldn’t believe your eyes—this woman was infuriating. While you were struggling to sit still in your seat, she looked as sober as she had been when you started. Oh god no, you thought as your stomach finally emptied and your vision tunneled from the alcohol in your bloodstream, I have officially fucked up. “You’re looking a little green around the gills, sweetheart.” Green around the gills? That was too close to an Earth phrase to be a coincidence. Giving her a second once-over, you felt your metaphorical jaw drop. You had seen those markings in her armor before, recognized the blacksmith work in the weapons and jewelry of the people around her. These people were gods, like Thor and Loki. You doubted she learned it from the blond hunk of thunder, though.   
As the next round of drinks was set about the table, your body quit. You slipped out of your seat and onto the floor, your vision went black and your body surprisingly comfortable despite being all twisted…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You: gimme back my shit.   
> Valkyrie: I'll drink you for it.   
> You: oh sure  
> You: (drunk) you tricked me  
> Valkerie: heh heh stupid bitch


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You piece together the rest of the night through the haze of alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't have anything to say except I hope you enjoy this?  
> EDIT: I made it longer, didn't like where it left off.

The next few hours were a complete blur.   
You remembered shaky hands on your arms, dragging you as gently as possible to help you stand. Hands that thrust your arm up in a victory stance and incited a roar from the crowd. A dozen other hands slapped you on the back in congrats, despite losing.   
You remembered a hand on your ass and a hand on your back pressing you to the groper, and through the haze of drunkenness, you assumed it was Brunnhilde. When had she told you her name? It didn’t really matter right now because she was swaying gently with you in her arms, the hard breastplate of your suit was a great disappointment, but you were thankful for the warmth radiating between you from your stomachs. She had to be as strong as she was resistant to alcohol because your feet were useless beneath you.   
You remembered throwing your arm around her shoulder, pressing into her side as she swayed to the music of street vendors. Your heart beat faster as the starlight glistened over Brunnhilde’s white facial tattoos and in the deep pools of her eyes. She was staring at you, you were speaking about something that made laugh. You started talking about something that made her cry, even you were tearing up. You held her closer and swayed a little deeper, wrapping your arms around her waist as she settled hers over your shoulders. Sighing at the feeling of closeness, you prayed this moment could last forever.   
You remembered the smell of purple gas, still sweet like cotton candy as it swirled from your mouth and clung like dew to her soft locks. She smelled like wood smoke and jasmine and something so uniquely her and you both wept silent tears over what you had lost.   
You remembered the sharp taste of the drinks you’d been consuming not a few hours ago, the feeling of a wet tongue in your mouth and nimble fingers wrapping themselves into your hair. You pulled at her cape, unstrapped her sword and let it clatter to the floor. Just for tonight, you would not be a Centurion without a Corps, and Brunnhilde would not be a stand-in for a lost King.   
You remember shuddering against the cool fabric of the bed, your naked form once again finding comfort at being reunited with hers. So many sensations, so many scents and tastes that set your nerves on fire.   
You remember feeling overwhelmed. You remembered feeling like you’d come off a cloud. You remembered a soft darkness that enveloped you as welcoming as your Valkyrie had been.   
…  
Hours later, you are grateful for the little cup of cure beside the bed. The taste was brutally bitter, but you swallowed the mouthful and barely managed to cough it back up. You struggled to reach due to the hot body pressing you down into the mattress and tangling you up in the sheets.   
Brunnhilde was lying half on top of you, her legs cupping yours and her arm slung haphazardly over your stomach. Her head lay atop your chest, her loose hair tickling the hollow of your throat and her breath creating moisture about your collarbone. The sheets pooled at your waist and the room was still dark as the days in Knowhere looked exactly like the nights. You couldn’t help it, didn’t really know what to do next, so you gently stroked the curve of her spine until she stirred, smiling gently against your skin.   
You were simultaneously relieved and perturbed when she rolled away to stretch. Your heated, sweat slick skin was finally given room to breathe, but your lizard brain desperately craved more of the attention she had given so generously.   
Gripped with a sudden fear, you slumped out of bed and slid on your clothes as silently as possible— your eyes never left her smooth body. Finally, you dug through her pockets until you found the thumb-sized communicator and pressed it over your heart. You slipped out the door and back into the perpetual night of Knowhere, heading for your ship, struggling to remember where you left it.   
It wasn’t until you were on route to the Xandarian refuge that you spotted the ink heart drawn on the back of your hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Ravagers: You sad bitch, I thought you were dead.  
> Y/N: Gimme back my shit.  
> Valkyrie: heh heh, come and get it, you funky little lesbian.


End file.
